Silence in Hanover Close - Anne Perry [117]
She started by being practical. How much money was there, and what had to be done with it? If it came to a choice between food and coal, how should she portion out the resources? The best thing was to check the cellar and see what there was. From now on it would be more potatoes and bread, and less meat. She would have to ask Gracie where the cheapest places were to shop.
Jack came a little before three. It was heavily overcast and the light was already beginning to fade. Gracie let him in and he went straight to the kitchen.
“I saw Emily,” he said immediately. “I told the butler a wonderful lie about her sister being ill and that I knew it through Lady Ashworth, for whom Emily—sorry. For whom Amelia had worked before. They swallowed it all.” He swung his coattails aside elegantly out of habit and sat down at the table. He looked at Charlotte very soberly. “She agreed to stay there; in fact, she insisted. I hope to God she’ll be all right. I’ve racked my brain for some way to protect her, but I can’t think of anything. She’s got a half day off on Saturday, and she said she’ll meet you in Hyde Park on the first seat as you go in nearest Hanover Close, at two in the afternoon, regardless of the weather. Until then, what can I do?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte admitted. “I went to the prison yesterday, but they wouldn’t let me see Thomas. I only know what I read in the newspapers.”
“I went out and got them all.” He could not keep the anxiety from his face. “They say he asked people all over the city where he could find Cerise. Several street sellers will swear to that. It seems the running patterer who actually took him to Seven Dials only watched Pitt go in; he didn’t go in himself. It was a brothel, of sorts, and the landlord says Pitt asked him to describe the woman very closely and only wanted to see her if she was the right one. The landlord took him up. No one else passed, and when the man went up a few minutes later he found Pitt bending over with his hands around her neck.” He was very pale. “I’m sorry.”
She searched his face, but his gaze did not waver.
“Then there’s no point in going to Seven Dials,” she said as calmly as she could. “Not that I ever thought there would be. The answer is in Hanover Close. I must go and see Veronica York again. Will you take me?”
“Of course. And I’ll take you to Coldbath Fields as well. You shouldn’t go alone.”
“Thank you.” She tried to think of something else to say, and failed.
This time she was allowed into the prison, a great cold place whose massive walls were like misery set in stone, condensation making even the inner corridors feel cold and sour. Everywhere was the smell of human sweat and stale air. The warden did not look at her as he spoke, and she was led into a small room with a scarred wooden table and two upright chairs. This privilege was granted only because Pitt was still technically an innocent man.
It took all the strength she possessed not to weep when she saw him. His clothes were dirty, the clean shirt she had brought him was already torn, and there were bruises on his face. She dared not imagine what there might be on his body that she could not see. Neither wardens nor prisoners had any love for a policeman turned murderer. The warden commanded Charlotte and Pitt to sit at opposite sides of the table while he stood upright in the corner like a sentry and watched them.
For several moments she just sat and stared. It would be ridiculous to ask him how he was. He knew she cared; that was all that was necessary, and there was nothing she could do to alter any of it.
Then